


your ex-lover is dead

by adreamaloud, daneorange (adreamaloud)



Series: clexa eternal au [1]
Category: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:35:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3882538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/adreamaloud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adreamaloud/pseuds/daneorange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke remembers none of these, Lexa reminds herself, blinking away fragments of the handful of years they’d spent together – all-nighters in Clarke’s room and breakfasts at Lexa’s and afternoons on that old park bench, the paint faded under the sun.</p><p>With only one person remembering everything, did they really count?</p>
            </blockquote>





	your ex-lover is dead

**Author's Note:**

> That eternal sunshine au. This ran away from me, obviously. Title from Stars. All errors are mine.

 

The city is warmer than Lexa remembers, and she can feel herself sweating under her coat as she disembarks from her plane. The last time she was here, it had been relatively cooler – she still remembers the shiver that went through her as she looked back one last time over the city before getting into the connecting tube.

All of three years ago. Back then, she’d been so sure she’ll never go back.

 _Then again, here we are,_ she sighs as she lines up to get her bags from the conveyor belt. Even the airport has changed much in the years between – glossy and new and _alien._ All of it makes Lexa want to take a step back and breathe in.

_This is no longer home._

*

Lexa finds herself in one of the newer hotels in town – like the rest of the city’s she’s seen so far. Lexa had carefully plotted her first few hours in, painstakingly avoiding the usual haunts to avoid unnecessary hauntings: Old diners along old university roads, and all that jazz. She’d even taken to renting a car, even if she hates driving, because she doesn’t really want to take the train or the bus, and it’s _really_ not because she’s opposed to public transport.

Lexa sighs as she sits carefully upon the edge of the hotel bed and removes her shoes. It had only been an hour-and-a-half long flight, but everything just _aches_.

 _Well, it could be the city, closing in on me._ Lexa lets out a little laugh and shakes her head, the small sound bouncing off the walls. She rolls her sleeves up both her forearms and unbuttons her shirt down to the second button. She’s warm and she’s starving and looking out the city’s twinkling lights, she doesn’t quite know where to go.

 _There used to be a time I knew this place like the back of my hand._ She digs into her pocket and slides out her phone: Three messages and one missed call. _Natasha._

 _Flight landed safely,_ Lexa replies. _I’ll call you in the morning._ She hits send, thinking twice about ending it at that. Shaking her head, she sends another one: _I love you._

The reply comes some fifteen seconds later. _Love you, too._

And then, _Come back to me._

Lexa sighs, pocketing her phone again. She thinks about the city she left – about the life she’s made there for the past three years, and the girl who’s waiting at home. When she moved out of here, she never really thought she’d be starting over easy – but Natasha was _there_ , and the rest, as they always say, is history.

 _Written by the victors,_ Lexa reminds herself. _Rewritten by survivors._

Lexa finds herself walking to the diner across the road from her hotel. It amazes her how this part of town could have grown into something like _this –_ so alive and _flourishing._ Three years ago, it had been an empty place.

 _Now everything is just filled._ Lexa wonders what else has changed around here. The thought makes her head throb.

Her phone rings incessantly throughout her dinner. _Bellamy._ Lexa ignores his call pointedly, though by now, he must have already figured out that she’s arrived.

 _Just a matter of time,_ Lexa thinks idly, staring at her phone blink and buzz. Taking pity, Lexa picks up on the eleventh ring.

“Jesus Christ, Lex,” says Bellamy. “Do you usually take this long to answer a call?”

Lexa laughs dryly, clearing her throat. “Sorry, I was away from my phone.”

“Are you back?”

A pause. “What do you think?”

“The funeral is in three days,” says Bellamy. “When are you coming to see her?”

Lexa picks up the glass of water and takes a long drink before responding. While she hasn’t really forgotten why she’s back in the first place, truly she’d preferred putting the thought off for as long as possible. “Bell, I just got here,” she says tiredly. “Can we talk in the morning?”

“Okay,” says Bellamy. “I’m sorry.” And then, “What about Clarke?”

Lexa breathes in deep. “It’s her mother’s funeral, Bell. There’s no avoiding her.”

*

“ _I’m going to fucking marry you, someday. I hope that’s okay.”_

_“You’re drunk as fuck, Lex—”_

_“Okay, okay, jeez – give the girl a bit of time to get down on one knee for this, will you?”_

_Clarke’s eyes widen, and for a moment Lexa almost thinks she has sobered up. “Jesus Christ, Lexa, get the fuck back up—”_

_The grass is damp under Lexa’s unsteady knee, and when she looks up at Clarke, she’s half-laughing, half-crying._ And I’m 100-percent in love with her. _“Come on, Clarke. What do you say? You and me, a gazillion cats—”_

_“Only a million,” says Clarke, sniffing. “Jesus, I’m not sober enough for this—”_

_“Okay. Okay, you and me and only a million cats. Forever.” Lexa’s breath catches in her throat at the small whimper that escapes Clarke’s mouth at the word._

_“Forever,” Clarke nods, biting down on her lip. Her eyes sparkle with tears; against the pitch black night, they might as well have been stars._

*

When Lexa wakes, she finds herself mildly disoriented in an unfamiliar bed. She looks around and wipes the sweat off her brow. _God this place is sweltering._ The clock on the table reads: _3:27 a.m._

 _These fucking dreams again,_ Lexa thinks, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. She splashes water on her face and gives her reflection one hard look as she runs her hands under the running water. The Clarke dreams recurred around the time Bellamy called her about Abby’s passing – _I know you’re still close,_ was how Bellamy had opened that conversation. _Your number is still in her phone. Your last conversation was last week._

It was the one rule she broke, as far as this break-up is concerned; Lexa is all too aware about the importance of _severing all vital ties,_ but it’s not like she can turn Abby away.

For the longest time, Abby was her mother, too.

 _Was._ Lexa feels the churning in her gut worsen, and she finds herself folded over the sink, her throat burning with bitter acid. _Not one, but two mothers now,_ she tells herself, wiping furiously at her eyes with the underside of her wrist.

 _Maybe you should go to her funeral._ She hears Natasha’s voice in her head again, and Lexa just folds into herself further. Natasha, who tried her best to understand, despite Lexa’s stubborn silences.

After all, how to explain the fact that you’d kept in touch with your ex-girlfriend’s mother after all these years, only you don’t really have an ex-girlfriend, because _that_ part of your life has already been, technically, _half-dissolved_?

Lexa tries to keep her breathing steady as she sits back down on the bed. She checks the time: _4:01 a.m._

 _You can do this, you can do this._ Blindly, she feels around the side table for her wallet before turning on the lamp. On nights like this, when Clarke bears down heavily on her, Lexa takes the card out and reads it, running her eyes across the Lacuna logo and the typeset words over and over, until they cease making sense.

 _Please do not mention this relationship to her again. Please do not mention this relationship to her again. Please do not mention this relationship to her again._ When her eyes start watering, Lexa turns the card around, reads Mierzwiak’s name embossed across the panel and breathes out.

 _You’ve gone this far,_ she tells herself as she sinks back into the bed. _You can go some more._

*

Lexa wakes up hours later, still exhausted. When she peers into her cell, she’s got three missed calls, all from Bellamy. _Well shit,_ she thinks, hauling herself out of bed and into presentable clothes.

 _Today’s a good time as any,_ she thinks to herself, buttoning up. She looks at the mirror and thinks, _Abby would be proud._

 _You’ve always struck me as a formal wear kind of girl,_ she hears Abby in her head. _What was up with all that leather?_ Lexa finds herself snickering at that; she still remembers the look on Abby’s face whenever she told her off for wearing ‘far too much leather.’ _This town’s weather is not leather-suited, Lexa._

 _Mothers know best,_ Lexa thinks, carefully rolling up her sleeves.

She’s not about to show up at Abby’s wake in a wrinkled shirt.

*

Lexa takes the train; she doesn’t trust herself to drive, and besides, the address Bellamy texted is only a short walk from the station. It would be easier, and she would not get lost trying to find some parking.

 _Lost._ Lexa thinks about that word as she steps into the relatively empty train cab, clutching the flowers she’d picked up from the shop beside the hotel. She’d never associated the word _lost_ with this place before, but as she looks out the window and watches the city zip by, Lexa can’t help but marvel at the way things have grown without her.

 _How strange and how familiar,_ she thinks, staring at old buildings made new and noting with sadness how some shops they’d once gone to as children are now gone. The back of her head stings with _Abby,_ and Lexa breathes in, the scent of the flowers near her chest overwhelming her.

She looks around the train, for once wondering if these are the same people she once walked the streets with – she scans the room for a familiar face, for a moment jolted as the train slows to a stop. The train doors open and people start streaming in, walking with their suitcases in their hands and newspapers under their arms. Lexa braces herself against the wall as the train jerks back to life.

People settle into seats and eventually clear the aisle as the train hums along. Lexa’s turns her head toward the other side, if only to see what else she’s missed, and there she is: A woman standing at the far end of the train, looking every bit like Clarke, or at least from where Lexa’s standing.

 _You’re seeing things,_ Lexa tells herself, blinking. She hasn’t seen Clarke in _ages –_ hell, she hasn’t even kept up with her online presences. Not that she could, if she wanted – that’s not what she signed up for. _God knows what she looks like now_ , Lexa thinks, staring at the woman shift from one leg to the other, head bowed as she focuses on her book. Her hair’s the same shade, and the way she stands, it’s almost like Clarke when she’s exhausted from a day’s worth of classes, and right there, Lexa’s chest _seizes_ as the memories come rushing in like the tide.

 _Clarke remembers none of these,_ Lexa reminds herself, blinking away fragments of the handful of years they’d spent together – all-nighters in Clarke’s room and breakfasts at Lexa’s and afternoons on that old park bench, the paint faded under the sun.

_With only one person remembering everything, did they really count? Or would it all, technically, be only in my head?_

_Stop this,_ Lexa tells herself, screwing her eyes shut. The voice on the PA system tells her that the next stop is her stop, so she rearranges herself against the wall, breathing out. She grips the flowers closer, eyes straying over the stranger again.

Lexa watches, terrified, as the woman turns her face toward her and lifts her sunglasses to her face.

 _Clarke._ Lexa almost says her name out loud as she steps out of the train. _Of course._ She walks just far enough to get close to an empty space by a wall, where she lets herself catch her breath. The train roars past and the platform eventually clears, but Lexa’s chest is still full of _Clarke_ and _Abby_ and that _ring._

_Of course._

_I’m going to fucking marry you someday, I hope this is okay._ Lexa keeps breathing, hands braced against her knees, the scent of flowers surrounding her.

 _Of course._ Lexa straightens herself, patting her shirt down, wary about creases.

What good would forgetting have done Clarke if it didn’t allow her this kind of moving on?

*

Lexa stalls, pacing around the funeral home aimlessly, fiddling with her phone. She’s calling Bellamy, but he’s not picking up. _I deserve this,_ she thinks, sitting outside. The hallways are too quiet and empty and it puts a chill in her bones.

Lexa doesn’t know how long she sits there until someone approaches her. “Lexa?” The voice is soft and wary, and when she looks up she sees Raven crossing the distance between them in quick strides. “Jesus. It’s _you._ ”

Lexa smiles weakly. “Hey.” She notes the weariness on Raven’s face – if there’s someone else who loved Abby as fiercely, it would be Raven. “How are you holding up?”

Raven sinks into the space next to Lexa, breathing out. “This has been an exhausting week,” she says. Lexa has never heard her so defeated. _Worn._ “When did you get back?”

“Last night.”

“You didn’t call, I would have picked you up.”

Lexa shakes her head. She and Raven had their rough patches in college, but they’re so _alike_ in many ways that Lexa found it difficult to be at odds with her for so long. In the end, when things fell apart with Clarke, it was Raven’s insistence that eventually drove Lexa out of their town. _Get out of here,_ was what Raven said. _Out of sight, out of mind._

“I knew you’d be busy here,” says Lexa, jolted back to the present. “Didn’t want to be a bother.”

Raven sighs, fixing Lexa with a look. “You’ve been away for three years. Would have been the least we could do.” She puts her hand lightly on Lexa’s knee before turning her attention to the flowers in her hand. “You should probably get this inside.”

Lexa inhales. _Inside. Where Clarke is. Where probably everyone is._ “I don’t think—”

“You’re not here for Clarke,” Raven reminds her. “You’re here for _Abby._ ”

Lexa closes her eyes, tugging nervously at her collar. “All right.” She swallows hard before getting to her feet slowly. “What’s our cover again?”

“We met at an out-of-town conference,” says Raven. “Abby’s a bank client. You _are_ still in finance, aren’t you?”

Lexa nods, managing a wider smile. “You want my business card with that?” Raven snorts, and for a fleeting moment it doesn’t feel like they’re about to see Abby in a casket. “What about Bellamy?”

“Bellamy was in that conference,” says Raven. “Don’t worry, Clarke barely notices anything these days. She’s too busy with Wells.”

Lexa feels her jaw tense at that. “Wells.”

“Her husband,” Raven replies automatically. And then, finally hyper-aware of Lexa’s silence: “You didn’t _know_.”

“I didn’t exactly receive an invitation,” says Lexa through gritted teeth. “Besides, we weren’t good at keeping in touch either, were we?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” says Lexa, squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine. “We do what we have to.”

Raven nods and goes ahead, opening the door and tilting her head at Lexa wordlessly, like she’s saying, _Come on._ Lexa counts her breaths in her head – _one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._

The first thing that strikes Lexa upon stepping in is the strong, heady scent of flowers. She looks around the room – it’s relatively empty, save for a few people whom Lexa does not really know. The walls are lined with flowers and tributes, framed photos of Abby and messages of comfort written on ribbons, mounted on the far wall.

The casket lies up front. On one side, it is flanked by even more flowers, while on the other side there’s an LCD screen showing a photo collage loop of some sort. She stares at it for a couple of minutes, wondering if anybody had accidentally inserted a long-lost photo of her by complete accident. _Don’t be ridiculous,_ she tells herself. _You’re as good as forgotten._

Raven brushes against her before heading toward the front seats, where Clarke is seated with coffee.

“Hey,” she hears Raven murmur, and Lexa tries not to turn her head so quickly, even as the sound of Clarke sniffing breaks her heart. _Fuck._ Lexa tries to keep her reaction in check.

 _Let’s just get this over and done with._ She walks resolutely toward the casket, eyes trained on the glass. _Oh, Abby. Look at you._ She touches the panel gingerly and says a prayer under her breath.

Raven must have held Clarke back, because Lexa finds herself alone with Abby for a good quiet while. She studies Abby’s sleeping form, before looking at the picture frames on top of the casket.

“Hello.”

Lexa has to bite down on her tongue to keep from making a sound. It’s the first time in three years that she’s hearing Clarke’s voice again, and it sounds like an entirely foreign thing, devoid of any weight. Lexa’s chest feels hollowed out and empty.

“Thank you for coming to see my mother.”

Lexa lets a stray tear fall, before hurriedly wiping at it with the back of her finger. She turns to Clarke and holds her breath – _God, how are you even here?_ she thinks, trying not to let her eyes roam too freely all over Clarke’s face. This close, Clarke still looks every bit like the girl Lexa had once known so well.

Only this girl is looking at her blankly, a neutral smile on her face – a face reserved for _strangers._ It makes Lexa want to scream: _How could you forget? I spent nights memorizing the constellations on your skin._

“Where do you know my mother from?”

Lexa’s throat is dry, but she forces herself to swallow and meet her Clarke’s eyes: Everything is new, and this is their first time, all over again – only Lexa is no longer nineteen, and Clarke is no longer eighteen, and the years between have taken them a long way from there.

_Oh, take me back to the start._

“I’m Clarke, by the way. Are you all right?”

Lexa nods, suddenly aware of the flowers she’s still clutching in her hand. Without thinking, she offers them to Clarke, who receives them with a smile. _Well, shit,_ Lexa thinks. She still smiles the same way when receiving flowers; Lexa wishes she hadn’t seen that smile here again today.

“My name is Lexa,” she says finally. The sound feels like it’s clawing its way out of her throat. “I met your mother at work.”

“At the hospital?” Clarke perks up considerably at that, hand brushing against Lexa’s as she takes the flowers. “These are beautiful. She would have loved them.”

 _I know,_ Lexa almost says. _You would have, too._ But then Clarke looks at them so innocently, leading Lexa to assume that the operation took that out of her as well. _How little of you was left, after everything?_ To this day, she can’t help but feel guilty about the whole thing, like it were her fault that Clarke wanted to go through all that, in the first place.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” says Lexa, extending her hand. _This is how it ends,_ she just thinks. Clarke looks at it, then at her, smiling confusedly as she ignores it.

“No handshakes,” Clarke murmurs, as she gathers Lexa in a hug. The gesture roots her to the spot, and she stands there stiffly, not knowing where to put her hands. She catches Raven looking at her over Clarke’s shoulder; she’s similarly aghast as she gestures with her hands.

 _Raven is asking me to hold Clarke right back,_ Lexa realizes. _Are you out of your fucking mind?_ she mouths at her quietly.

She does not know how long it takes before she relents – perhaps a lifetime, perhaps only a split-second – but in the end, the feel of Clarke pressed up against her is so familiar and irresistible, and it takes all of her not to wrap her arms around her too tightly. She feels Clarke relax into her hold further, like she’s been waiting for _someone_.

They stand there for a bit, just _holding._ Perhaps the whole wake situation makes it more acceptable; was this something Clarke did with all of her guests? Lexa doubts that, even as Clarke hangs onto her warmly, fingernails digging into her shirt. After a bit, she feels moisture on her shoulder, right where Clarke’s face is burrowed.

 _She is crying. Shit._ Instinctively, Lexa gathers her closer, and walks them over to the front seats.

“Hey.” Lexa clears her throat, trying to catch Clarke’s eye. Lexa sits at a distance, keeping the space between them. Clarke still has her face in her hands, elbows resting on her knees. Lexa tries to reach over to soothe her back, tentative strokes eventually becoming more certain.

Finally, Clarke looks up, wiping at her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her shoulders out. “I don’t why I reacted that way. It was—you just felt so familiar. I’m sorry, I’m probably weirding you out.”

Lexa feels her stomach flip. _This is a bad sign._ “It’s all right,” she says. “It’s the grief talking. It’s fogging your system.”

“Right,” says Clarke, nodding. “I’m still sorry—Lexa, right?” Lexa tries not to shiver at the sound of her name from Clarke’s lips. _How can you forget?_ “You should stay. We’re having a service in half an hour.”

“I am,” says Lexa, moving to stand. “I’m just—I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

*

Lexa tries to keep her composure as she approaches the door -- her steps measured, her hands shaky on the knob. The corridor is empty, and she closes the door behind her carefully before sinking back into the couch where Raven first saw her.

 _Thank you for coming to see my mother._ Lexa doubles over, pain ghosting through her chest. _Why am I even here? Why did I even think—_

“Lexa.”

Lexa groans, face still buried in her hands. “Go away, Bellamy.” She feels the couch dip beside her as Bellamy sits down, nudging Lexa’s knee with his.

“Come on, Lexa.”

“Did you not get any of my calls?” Lexa deadpans.

Bellamy sighs. “I’m sorry. I was driving.” And then, “Have you seen her?”

“Yes.”

“And what about—”

“ _Yes._ I have seen the both of them.” Lexa hasn’t even been here for a couple of hours, and already she is so drained. Exhausted beyond belief, like she’d been running up and down the stairs without pause. “There’s a service in half an hour.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was hoping to catch. Have you seen Raven?”

“She was inside a while ago.”

Bellamy nods, putting a tentative hand on Lexa’s knee. “So. How was it?”

Lexa swallows hard, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “It was… _strange_. Like she sees me but not _really._ ”

“I think that was kinda the point,” Bellamy says. “Did she ask you how you knew her mother?”

“Said I met her at work. She thought we worked together at the hospital.”

“Is that how our cover story goes?”

Lexa shrugs. She met Bellamy and Raven through Clarke; Raven was Clarke’s roommate, and Raven and Bellamy dated on and off for most of college. Lexa knew it was doomed right from the start, but it’s not like she was the only one who saw the end coming, again and again.

“Raven says we all met at an out-of-town conference,” she tells Bellamy. She doesn’t mean to sound sad, but even after all these years, she still feels a certain ache when she remembers how she lost half her uni friends when Clarke chose to do things this way.

“Ah, of course.” Bellamy stands distractedly as a woman approaches, hands in her pockets. She smiles at Lexa tightly as she comes closer. “You’ve met my sister, Octavia.”

“Briefly,” says Lexa, extending her hand. “Hello.”

“Aren’t you Clarke’s—” Her statement is cut-off by Bellamy’s elbow digging into her side. “ _What?_ ”

“Technically, Clarke and I never happened,” Lexa lowers her voice, eyeing Bellamy. “Did you not get a card?”

“I got the card, all right,” says Octavia. “Just making sure it isn’t a prank.”

“Octavia,” Bellamy says, warning in his tone. “How is this a prank? They’ve been broken up for _years_.”

“Well, I have known people who break up without the need for a total mind wipeout—”

“ _Octavia._ Please.”

They exchange looks before Octavia shrugs and excuses herself, heading for the door. Lexa follows her with her eyes. _How about a break-up that doesn’t need a total wipeout, then._ Not like this is something Lexa _decided_ to do to herself.

A high-pitched shriek echoes just down the hall, and Lexa turns her head sharply toward the direction of the sound, startled. It turns out Raven has just found Octavia, and the two are currently sharing a spirited hug.

“These two have been apart for how long?” Lexa asks Bellamy, still staring at the two girls giggling with their faces close.

“Too long,” says Bellamy, sighing. “Things changed a lot when you were gone.”

Lexa wants to prod – what has happened between the day she left and today? Certainly, Lexa has done a pretty good job staying away that she is truly blind, as far as such matters were concerned. She almost opens her mouth to ask, but then Raven’s calling out and Lexa thinks, _Maybe later._

“Hey Bell,” Raven says, tapping Octavia’s back as she disappears into the room. “About time you arrived.”

Bellamy scratches at the back of his ear. “Parking,” he just says, and Lexa looks to the side, trying to hide a small satisfied smile. “Been here long?”

“Just ahead of _Commander_ here.”

Lexa looks around, trying not to blush at the old nickname – Clarke had given it to her after a rather interesting sleepover, and let everybody in on it by complete accident. Lexa’s cheeks burn despite herself.  “Jesus, Raven – Clarke might hear you.”

“Even that, eh?” asks Raven, her tone unexpectedly wistful. Lexa has a hunch that, of all their friends, Raven’s actually the one who took it the hardest. “You really think the Lacuna guys did a clean sweep?”

“You saw how she looked at me earlier. There’s nothing _there_.” Lexa tries to say it matter-of-factly – _it was what it was, right? –_ but she just can’t help the way her voice breaks toward the end of it. Lexa forces out a cough to cover it up, and Raven, instinctively, pats her back to soothe her.

“I thought Lexa was going to catch fire when Clarke hugged her,” Raven tells Bellamy with a straight face. “Right in front of Abby’s casket.” Bellamy laughs, surprised. It’s a horrible joke, Lexa knows as much, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes her mouth, either. “Well, what do you know? The girl can laugh.”

“Well,” says Lexa, biting down on her lip. “I hope you’re proud of yourself, because I just used up _all_ my laughter allowances on that one.”

The look on Raven’s face softens. “Come on, Lex,” she says, touching Lexa’s arm lightly. “ _We’re_ also in town. Have you seen Anya?”

Truth be told, Lexa hasn’t seen her own best friend in years. _Cut and cut clean,_ she was told. She remembers the day she said goodbye to Anya; that sad way she looked upon her. _You know where to find us._

And really, Lexa did; it was the same knowledge that urged her further and farther on, never once looking back.

_Live through this._

“Lex?” It’s Bellamy now, breaking gently into her thoughts. She hates feeling like this – like she’s some fragile thing they’re all handling delicately. She almost snarls at him, but then a mild-mannered old man interrupts them, asking for permission to pass through.

“Wells,” Bellamy greets the young man behind him. Lexa feels her stomach plummet at the name. “Is the service about to start?”

“Yes, please join us.” Wells shakes Bellamy’s hand and reaches over to give Raven a hug. Lexa stays rooted in her spot. _This is Clarke’s husband._ Her eyes drop to his hands, and she locates his ring so easily.

“You’ve met Lexa?” says Raven from behind him, and just like that, Lexa is straightening herself and extending her hand.

Wells’ grip is safe and warm. “Thank you for your time,” he says softly. “Where do you know Abby from?”

Lexa swallows. _I’ve known her all my life – perhaps much longer than you._ “We worked together,” Lexa says instead, tongue between teeth.

“I hope you’ve seen her?” says Wells, tugging lightly at Lexa’s hand. “Please join us for the service.”

“We will,” says Raven. “You better check in on Clarke, see if she’s ready.”

Wells nods, before smiling at Lexa. “All right then. I have to go. Thanks again for coming.” He heads for the door, and Lexa breathes out, unaware that she’d been holding her breath in the first place.

“You didn’t _know._ ” They wait for Wells to enter the room before saying anything, and Bellamy’s first to break into the quiet. “Clarke and Wells?”

“What Clarke did after _us_ – that’s none of my business,” says Lexa. _I’m going to fucking marry you someday, I hope that’s okay._ “Is he—is he a good man?”

Raven nods, wrapping her hand around Lexa’s arm when she sees Lexa look away; like she’s saying, _Stay with me on this._ “They met three years ago. After Clarke left.” _Around the same time I did,_ Lexa notes. She remembers the defeat and the resignation; it was a time when looking at the city meant seeing Clarke in all the places she’d already rubbed raw.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” says Lexa. “Is he a good man?” A pause. “Are they happy?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Raven says softly. “You’re not the only one who cut us off.”

Music starts wafting from the room; the service has started, and they’re running late. Bellamy clears his throat. “We should probably go in.” And then, shifting his eye over at Lexa: “Are you going to be okay?”

Lexa licks her lips and breathes in. “Watch me,” she says, walking toward the door first.

*

_Lexa is nineteen when she first meets Clarke, at a dorm mixer. Lexa comes with Anya, while Clarke sits for most of the night with Raven, who’s in one of Anya’s advanced physics classes. Anya spots them in one of their rounds of the room -- they spend half the time trying to talk over the music, until Anya gives up with a laugh and just gets all of them drinks, taking Raven with her._

_Alone in the middle of a crowded hall, Lexa remembers how Clarke felt so… surprisingly relaxed. Like it doesn’t bother that she’d just been left there with a girl she barely knew._

_“Are you all right?” Lexa asks, just as new music comes on. The beat drowns her out, and Clarke laughs at how ill-timed it was, though she nods and mouths,_ Thank you for asking _at her and Lexa’s gut does this little embarrassing flip, just by watching Clarke’s lips move._

Oh. _Lexa pushes her hands into her pockets, suddenly all too aware of that itchy feeling again – it’s like she wants to touch Clarke, and touch her_ all the time.

_Anya returns with a round of beers and an apology – she’s recruiting Raven to their physics org and she’s seen a handful of members hanging out. “I promise to return her,” Anya assures Clarke with a laugh, and Clarke just mock-pouts at Raven before nudging her playfully away._

_“I’m sorry my roommate stole yours,” Lexa offers much later, waiting this time for a lull in the music. They’re still standing in the middle of the room, their beers almost done. “You okay?”_

_Clarke smiles before finishing her beer. “We’re out of drinks,” she says, casually wrapping her hand around Lexa’s wrist as she tugs her toward the kitchen. Lexa lets herself be led on shaky knees._

_When the night winds down, Anya finds the both of them out on the street, right under the lights. From here, the music is less of a problem, and Lexa could better listen for the rasp at the edge of everything Clarke says. It’s all unbelievably attractive to Lexa’s mind, though she isn’t sure if it’s just all the beers they’d been pushing into each other’s hand all night. There’s a blush on Clarke’s cheek; it glows prettily in this light, and Lexa knows this is the moment she can say the rest of her life’s just been turned upside down._

_“We thought you’d left,” says Anya._

_“You stole my roommate,” Raven tells Lexa, and the sound Clarke makes punches a hole in the pit of Lexa’s gut; the heat pooling there steadily._

_“Raven,” says Clarke, but her eyes are on Lexa all the while. “We’ll see you around, right?”_

_Lexa just nods, unable to find her voice._

_*_

_Anya gets Clarke’s number from Raven. “You’re so whipped I can’t even look at you.”_

_Lexa sticks her tongue out at her, but she snatches the piece of paper anyway. “I’m not about to text someone when I did not even personally ask for her number.”_

_Anya laughs and shakes her head, leaving Lexa to it. “You can’t even say her name.”_

Clarke. _It sounds just fine in her head. When she looks up from staring at Clarke’s number for too long, she finds herself alone._

*

 _She doesn’t text; instead, Lexa tries to deliberately run into her on multiple occasions._ Anya would definitely call this stalking, _she thinks, but what the hell._ Not like I’m following her around in the woods, or anything.

_Clarke doesn’t see her, and it’s okay; Lexa likes observing from afar. Clarke’s an industrial design major, and many times Lexa catches her in mid-sketch, seated across a building or a campus statue. Once, Lexa chances upon her staring at a university sign, pencil still in hand, and in the end she finds it irresistible to approach._

_“Hey,” Lexa calls out softly; the last thing she wants to do is startle Clarke, so she walks up to her very slowly. Clarke turns to her with a smile, and all the other words leave Lexa’s throat. “Clarke, right?” she manages._ Like your name hasn’t filled my head all these days.

_“Your roommate stole mine, right?” says Clarke, eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry, I’m horrible at names.”_

_Lexa’s stomach drops at that._ Had that night been so horribly insignificant? _She tries not to let the disappointment reach her eye. “Sorry, my name is--.”_

_Clarke laughs, touching Lexa’s arm, and just like that everything is reduced to this singular space where Clarke’s hand meets Lexa’s skin. “--Lexa, I know. I was kidding,” Clarke says, that trademark rasp wrapping around her name. “I remember you.”_

_*_

Lexa wonders what Clarke saw when she first saw her today, and her stomach sinks and sinks, just thinking about how she probably remembers _none_ of the life they made: None of their hurried lunches. None of the afternoons they spent sitting on the worn bench across the exquisitely designed Law building. None of their quick trysts in the library during long, excruciating school days.

Lexa, however – Lexa still remembers the way the shelves dug into her back, the sting of Clarke’s fingernails clawing at the inside of her thighs. The way the mid-afternoon sun seeps into the blinds in their favorite make-out corner. The sharp taste of Clarke; the way she sounds when she’s trying not to make any.

Lexa remembers them all. Sometimes, she wonders if it would have been better that they both forgot. Many nights, she sits with Mierzwiak’s card in one hand and her phone in the other. _But someone has to remember,_ she always tells herself. _One of us has to._

The music ends and the pastor starts speaking. Lexa slips quietly into the back row with Raven and Bellamy following closely behind her. From where they’re seated, Lexa can see Clarke huddled closely to Wells, her head on his shoulder, his arm around her. Lexa keeps looking; it hurts like a motherfucker, but she can’t seem to look away. _That should have been me._

Lexa feels the beginning of tears sting in the corner of her eyes; she can hear the pastor addressing the small room in a comforting monotone, and when she feels Raven’s hand slip into hers, Lexa starts crying.

* 

_“Where do you think is she?” Clarke asks, lying shoulder-to-shoulder with Lexa on the grass._

_“Who?”_

_“Your mother.” Clarke pauses, if only to thread her fingers into Lexa’s. “You don’t have to answer that, if you don’t want to.”_

_Lexa squints at the clouds through the leaves. Younger, she told herself many things – her mother was away on a business trip, or an educational opportunity abroad, or it was just a hectic schedule that turned their days around. Lexa clung to anything that would have excused her mother’s extended absence – a difficult thing, for the first few months at least._

_It is true what people say, after all – she’d get used to things, eventually.  After a while, things resume like nothing even happened._ The world spins madly on, _she is told, and in the end, Lexa thinks,_ Aren’t we all just spinning along?

“ _Lexa?” Clarke asks softly, tugging at Lexa’s hand._ What a comfort it is to have someone to hold, _Lexa thinks. “What are you thinking?”_

_Lexa takes a moment before breathing deeply. “My mother is inside me,” she ends up saying, hand tightening around Clarke’s. “I carry her around like a hole in my heart.”_

_Clarke rolls over to her side, pressing up against Lexa, head propped on an elbow. She says nothing; instead she just looks down at Lexa softly, hand draped lazily across Lexa’s stomach._

_Lexa closes her eyes and focuses on the prickly sensation of the grass under her arms; the sound of the birds overhead. The quiet whirring of tree leaves. When a low wind blows past, it pushes Clarke closer, and Lexa swears, in that small moment, nothing is ever truly lost._

_*_

After the service, Clarke and Wells go around the room to shake people’s hands, murmuring their thanks. Lexa steps back; she can take Wells’ kind words and Clarke’s hug, but not _both at the same time._ Lexa feels her head start throbbing, just watching the couple move as _one._

 _There used to be a time,_ Lexa begins in her head, but she screws her eyes shut, if only to try _not_ to finish her thoughts.

“We can go,” Raven murmurs beside her. She still has Lexa’s hand in hers, and she squeezes around it, gently, in reminder. “We don’t have to stay.”

Lexa shakes her head – she _wants to_ stay; _wants to_ keep looking and observing and drawing her conclusions about how happy and _functional_ Clarke’s marriage is; how dependable Wells looks.

 _A good man._ Lexa sets her jaw and stands her ground, despite Raven’s insistence.

“Lexa.” It’s Bellamy now interfering. “You don’t have to stay to see this.”

Lexa bows her head briefly to clear her eyes, and when she looks back up, it’s too late – Clarke and Wells are on their way toward them, and Lexa feels Raven’s hold tighten around her. _I got this._ Lexa breathes in and steels herself.

“You’re here,” Clarke tells Raven, gathering her in a hug. Clarke’s voice is small and soft and Lexa has to turn away from it. She meets Bellamy’s eyes before shifting to look at Wells, now looking at his wife with a solemn look on his face, keeping his distance.

“We’re here,” Lexa hears Bellamy say. She turns her head to catch them hugging; she wonders just how much of Clarke’s memories of Bell have also been slightly altered, given how closely entwined he and Lexa had been, once. 

When Clarke breaks away from Bellamy and starts moving closer to Lexa, Lexa feels her heart still.

“Hey,” Clarke says, before moving in to hug Lexa briefly. “Thanks for staying. We have coffee.”

“Actually—” Bellamy begins, clearing his throat – a signal to Lexa. An exit strategy.

“Thank you,” Lexa cuts in, and when she looks at Bellamy, he’s staring at her like he’s asking, _What the fuck are you doing?_ “I’d love some.”

“Please,” says Wells, just as Clarke ushers Lexa toward the bar with a hand on the small of her back – a gesture too familiar, it puts ache after ache in Lexa’s chest. Lexa lets herself be led away from Raven and Bellamy, and they follow the heady scent of caffeine taking over the room, slowly.

Wells leaves Lexa with Clarke to attend to other guests; for a moment, Lexa thinks Clarke would join him, and is confused when Clarke stays with her until it’s their turn at the coffee machine.

“This is going to be a weird question,” says Clarke after a while. “But are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Lexa tries not to spill the coffee in her hand, but her hand trembles a little as she heads for the sugar and cream. “Maybe not,” says Lexa, trying on a shaky smile. “Unless of course you went with your mom once. The bank’s a big place, and I don’t necessarily remember everyone I transact with.” _Lie,_ thinks Lexa, biting down on her tongue. _I’ll remember you, always._

Clarke furrows her brow. “You said you met at the hospital.”

“I said we met at _work_ ,” says Lexa, sipping from her cup of coffee slowly. “We were at a personal finance conference.”

“Oh,” says Clarke. “I didn’t even know she was into those kinds of things.”

Lexa feels her heart drop slightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Not upset, just… Sometimes, I wish I’d stayed. Had I known our time was running out.”

Lexa watches quietly as Clarke makes her coffee: two sugars, no cream, and it’s just how Lexa remembers it. She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound, focusing instead at the way Clarke swirls her spoon around in her cup.

“Why did you leave?” It’s out before Lexa can stop herself. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

Clarke looks at Lexa, studying her face. “It feels like such a long time since I moved out of the city. Like it’s a different life entirely – do you ever feel that way?”

Lexa nods. “I think I know what you mean,” she says, looking back down on her coffee.

“I’ve forgotten why I even moved out in the first place. I think I just kept going day after day, until life happened to me.”

“I hope it was a good life, at least,” says Lexa.

“It was,” Clarke says. Lexa does not even have to look at her to know that she is smiling; Lexa can hear it just fine.

“Have you been married long?”

“A couple of years,” says Clarke. “I met Wells after I moved out. We run a design firm together – we do commercial spaces, so.” Clarke reaches out to touch Lexa’s wrist; Lexa looks up as soon as the ring comes into view. “If you ever need an office redesign. Or know someone who would.”

Lexa finishes her coffee. “Of course,” she says. Clarke reaches into her pocket and slides out her cardholder, handing one to Lexa. Lexa accepts it gingerly, taking out her wallet to retrieve one of hers. “We should, you know. Keep in touch.” _This is a bad idea, Lexa. A very, very bad idea._ “I mean. If you ever want to talk about finance.”

Clarke laughs, and Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. _She’s still beautiful when she laughs._ “Pretty sure I will,” she says, keeping Lexa’s card. “Is this how you also know Raven and Bellamy?”

“Yes,” Lexa says. “Have you known each other long?”

“Practically all our lives,” says Clarke. “Raven’s like a sister to me.” And then: “May I ask a personal question?”

Lexa swallows hard, leaning against the bar with her hands in her pockets. “Certainly,” she says. “What is it?”

“Are you—um,” Clarke begins, fumbling. She lowers her half-filled coffee cup on the bar, pausing. “Are you and Raven dating?”

Lexa blinks. _What?_ “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, and I haven’t even spoken yet to Raven, but—”

In the end, Lexa is unable to stop a small laugh from getting out. “Sorry,” she says immediately, worried that it comes across as insulting. “No. Raven and I are not dating.”

“Oh,” says Clarke, and Lexa tries not to interpret that sound as relief. “I’m sorry—I thought. God, I’m such an idiot. And I just assumed—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lexa says, reaching out herself. It’s her turn to put a hand on Clarke’s arm. “A friend of Raven’s is a friend of mine. Whether we’re dating or not.”

“Still sorry,” says Clarke. “It’s just that—I feel like I’ve been away for so long, and that I’ve forgotten so _much_.”

Lexa just looks at her, thinking about what to say. She wants to say, _But you have;_ wants to reach out and hold her hand and pull her close and say, _I’m standing right here, and you don’t see me._ Instead, Lexa blinks away her tears and clears her throat. “Grief does strange things to our memories,” she says.

“How do you know this?” asks Clarke. “I mean—you know what I mean.”

“I lost my mother, too,” says Lexa matter-of-factly. “I was fifteen.”

“Sorry.”

“Not your fault. It happens.”

Clarke is quiet for a while, and Lexa considers leaving her with her thoughts. Around them, the crowd inside the room has noticeably thinned. She tries not to panic when she notices that Raven and Bellamy have already left the room as well. _Fend for yourself now, Lexa._

“Does it get better?” Clarke asks softly.

Lexa mulls the question over in her head; for a moment, Lexa thinks about sugarcoating it for her. _Just for today_. “No,” she finds herself saying instead. _I can’t lie to her, not about this._ Clarke flinches, but her face shows her resignation anyhow. “You just get used to things. The world spins madly on.”

“Right.”

After a while, Wells walks up to them, smiling at Lexa and apologizing for the interruption, before leaning in and whispering to Clarke. Lexa feels the air around her thicken as she watches Clarke lean into Wells comfortably, nodding at something Lexa doesn’t quite catch. Right here: The familiarity of all the years in between that Lexa has managed to miss. Just like that, it gets harder to breathe and Lexa can’t think straight.

“Are you all right?” It’s Wells speaking with a hand on Lexa’s shoulder. “You’re looking pale.”

“I just need some air,” Lexa says. She looks at Clarke one last time before heading out.

*

 _Clarke decides on green, like it’s_ her _room they’re repainting._

_“Why green?” Lexa asks, but only to be difficult. She loves how it brings out Clarke’s combative, passionate side._

_“Not just green –_ forest _green,” says Clarke, hands on her hips. “Besides, it brings out the color of your eyes.”_

 _When Lexa told Clarke she was moving out of the dorms and into her own flat, Clarke had been beside herself in excitement. “You mean – an actual room we can_ design _?” she’d asked, and Lexa just rolled her eyes, nodding. The following day, Clarke showed up in her room with plans and diagrams on rolls of tracing paper, and Lexa thought it was unbearably adorable. They ended up making out on top of them, the papers giving out a satisfying crunch as their bodies writhed above._

_Three weeks later, here they are: Inside Lexa’s bare room with all of Clarke’s painting equipment. She isn’t due to fully move in until the end of the month, but the landlord had been gracious enough to let them in earlier because of Clarke’s proposed renovation._

_“Fine,” says Lexa, stepping into the space right behind Clarke and planting a chaste kiss at the back of Clarke’s neck. “The wall is all yours.”_

_Clarke looks up, reaching behind her to pull Lexa in closer. “I’ve always wanted to work on a mural,” she says, breathing out just as Lexa nuzzles the space just behind Clarke’s ear, her other arm snaking around Clarke’s waist._

_“And what would this mural show?” Lexa asks. She nips playfully at Clarke’s earlobe, laughing lightly at the sound Clarke tries_ not _to make._

_“Oh, I—I don’t know yet,” says Clarke. She’s curved warmly right into Lexa’s body, so soft to the touch. “Maybe something vast. Like outer space. Planets and constellations. The sun.” Lexa tries not to shiver at the rasp at the end of Clarke’s statement._

_“But all you have is_ forest green, _” Lexa says gently._

_Clarke laughs, turning around in Lexa’s hold and kissing along Lexa’s jaw. “We’ll make do,” she says, eyeing the mattress at the corner of the otherwise empty room. “Starting with your poor excuse of a bed over there.”_

_Clarke’s mouth is hot and Lexa shivers, letting herself be backed into a corner._

*

When Lexa checks her phone, she’s just missed another call from Natasha. She finds herself an isolated space in one of the verandas – it opens to a view of the city, and at this hour the lights have just begun twinkling. Night is falling; it’s Lexa’s favorite time of the day, if only because it ushers in rest.

 _Not tonight, though,_ she just thinks, phone to her ear. Natasha answers after three rings.

“Hey,” Natasha greets, her voice like a warm hug. “How’s the old town?”

Lexa sighs. “Old,” she just says. “How was your day?”

“My deadlines today got moved to next week,” she says, and Lexa listens in, imagining her smiling into her phone. “So today’s a good day.”

“Congratulations,” says Lexa, smiling herself. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m making salad right now,” Natasha says. Lexa tries to picture her moving around in their kitchen, still in her office clothes, but with her hair undone. Something in her chest twitches. “How’s Clarke?”

Lexa swallows hard. She’d told Natasha that Clarke was an old friend, and that her mother had been a mother to all of them. “She’s… _put together,_ ” says Lexa. “I met her husband. Nice guy.”

“At least she has someone,” Natasha says. “How are _you_?”

 _That someone used to be me._ “Tired, but I’ll be fine,” she says. “The energy of this place is exhausting.”

“Sorry to hear that. How long till the funeral?”

“Two days.”

“Oh.” There is a tinge of disappointment in Natasha’s voice. “I thought you’d be home sooner.”

“I will be, as soon as.” Lexa had deliberately delayed telling Natasha about the funeral’s final details; she didn’t want to have to explain why she’s staying for _days_ in a place she doesn’t even talk about anymore. “I’ll take the first flight out after.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise.” And then, “I miss you.”

“Love you,” says Natasha. “Come home.”

Lexa breathes in, counting street lights below; they remind Lexa of a sea of stars. “Love you. See you soon.” She ends the phone call with a long sigh.

“Wife?”

Lexa jerks around in her surprise, cursing lightly under her breath as she sees Raven walking toward her. “Was that totally necessary?”

“Sorry,” Raven offers. “Was that—”

“My girlfriend,” says Lexa. “She’s a bit disappointed I won’t be home sooner.” Raven nods, like she’s conceding that there are certain areas of Lexa’s life that are now beyond her reach – _their_ reach.

 _Clarke did it to me first_.

“Clarke asked me earlier if I was dating you.”

Raven laughs, amused, and just like that the air around them is noticeably lighter. “Was that—did we make Clarke _jealous_?”

Lexa shakes her head, laughing along. “I have no idea. Should I have not denied it immediately?”

“I’m amused she didn’t think you were dating _Bellamy._ Do you have a sign on your forehead or something?”

Lexa smiles. She hadn’t thought about that comment that way. “Or perhaps the sign was on _Bellamy’s face_.”

“I heard my name. What did I miss?” Bellamy asks, emerging from the darkness of the lobby and walking out to the veranda, where they are illuminated by a nearby streetlamp. 

“Clarke asked Lexa if she was going out with me,” says Raven. “We were just talking about how Clarke hadn’t assumed it was _you._ ”

“Different times,” Bellamy just says, smiling. “Besides, you two were very snuggly.” Raven swats Bellamy’s arm and Lexa lets out a brief laugh; it’s the lightest her chest has felt all day. “Seriously though – I am starving. Dinner?”

Raven looks at Lexa uncertainly. “You should join us,” she tells her. “Catch up.”

For a moment, Lexa thinks about declining, remembering the relative comfort of her hotel bed. She could order room service and talk to Natasha all night; they could go watch the same TV channel and pretend that Lexa is just on one of her out-of-town conferences, business as usual. But something in Raven’s eyes cannot bring her to say it.

“Fine,” Lexa says, eventually. “I’m in.”

*

_After weeks of ‘bumping’ into Clarke, Lexa finally gets Clarke’s number from Clarke herself. They’re at the university track and field team’s victory bonfire when it happens. Clarke’s with her friends, while Lexa’s with hers – one of the guys on the team is in her corporate treasury elective, and she heard Raven’s DJ-ing so Clarke’s probably going to be there – she figured, why not? Plus, the drinks are free._

_When Clarke sees her on the grounds, she approaches immediately, and for a moment there, Lexa is scared that Clarke’s going to tell her off for stalking. “Hey you,” Clarke begins. “You’re into these things too?”_

_“Just out supporting a friend,” says Lexa. “Glad to bump into you here.”_

_“We seem to be doing that a lot,” says Clarke, before tugging at Lexa’s hand and prying her fingers open. Lexa tries to breathe through the sensation of Clarke’s fingers wrapped around her wrist._

_“Is everything all right?” Lexa asks._

_Clarke nods as she takes something out of her pocket._ A pen, _Lexa thinks, realizing belatedly what Clarke’s actually up to – before she knows it, Clarke has written her number right across Lexa’s palm._

_“We should see each other more often,” Clarke just says, smiling at her before turning around to return to her friends._

_Lexa stands there speechless, staring at Clarke as she moves away, her hand stinging with futures._

_*_

_On the night Lexa first kisses Clarke, they are in Clarke’s dorm room, hiding from a party. Clarke is struggling to finish an essay in her corner – she’s got her huge earphones on and is tapping incessantly on her notebook with a pen. Lexa tries her best to ignore it from where she’s seated on Clarke’s bed, leafing through a random book from Clarke’s shelf._

_“What do you think of Raven?” Clarke asks out of the blue, tugging her earphones off._

_“Raven?” Lexa pauses, mid-flip._

_“Yeah. What do you think about her?”_

_“I have no thoughts about Raven,” says Lexa, closing the book altogether. It’s one of Clarke’s Lonely Planet guides, Lexa realizes. It makes her wonder if Clarke wants to travel someday._

_“Oh,” says Clarke, moving from her nook toward the bed, sitting beside Lexa, their knees touching. Lexa feels slightly flushed; Clarke is so near, Lexa can feel just how warm she is. “Okay.”_

_Something in Lexa’s chest freezes, alarmed. “Am I—am I supposed to have thoughts about Raven?” she asks, trying to keep her voice level._

_Clarke shrugs. “I mean, she’s hot right? The party downstairs is insane, and everybody seems to be crazy about her.”_

_Lexa furrows her brow as she looks at Clarke. She still doesn’t know where this is going. “I don’t quite follow.”_

_“I mean, we always have these parties, and she’s always the hotshot DJ, and_ you’re _always in her events.”_

Only because you’re always in them, too, _Lexa almost says. “Okay. So I’m supposed to have an opinion about your roommate because I seem to be always in her events.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Hm.” Lexa pauses to think. Truth be told, she hasn’t paid so much attention to Raven’s_ actual _events because she’s always preoccupied with Clarke._ Time to lay down my cards? _Lexa wonders. “Well. I think her parties are swell?”_

_Clarke laughs, touching Lexa’s wrist. “Yeah, and that’s exactly why you’re cooped up in my room with me.”_

_Lexa blushes so hard she actually closes her eyes, rubbing at her face with her palm._ Shit, I am so done for, _she thinks. “You really think that?”_

_“Sometimes I worry about you,” Clarke says, tone teasing. “It’s like you’re stuck with the boring half of the duo, or something.”_

_“What are you even talking about?” Lexa turns to her, face serious. “Clarke Griffin, you are definitely_ not _boring.”_

_The way Clarke looks at her at that – like it’s the nicest thing anybody has ever said; like she can’t really bring herself to believe it. “Oh,” she says, dropping her eyes to her hands. “That’s… nice.”_

Nice? _“Nice?” Something inside Lexa breaks, and just like that, she’s tipping Clarke’s face upward, fingers under her chin gently. “I have a thousand other words for you.” Clarke’s eyes widen slightly and Lexa doesn’t give either of them much space to think as she goes ahead and leans in for the kiss._

 _It starts slow; the last thing Lexa wants is for Clarke to feel like they’re in a hurry._ All the time in the world, _she wants to say, shifting against Clarke’s lips and cradling her face in her hands._

_It feels like a really long sunrise._

_*_

Clarke arrives an hour into the dinner and Lexa feels the blood leave her face upon seeing her enter the door.

“What is she doing here?” she murmurs at Raven.

“I’m sorry, she was asking where we were.”

Bellamy stands to meet Clarke near the door with a hug. _He’s stalling,_ Lexa notes. She wonders if Bellamy’s cooking up an exit strategy here for her, too. Lexa takes the moment to compose herself, avoiding Raven’s gaze altogether.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Clarke greets, sliding into the seat beside Lexa and right across Bellamy.

Lexa shakes her head. “Not at all,” she says, smiling. “Besides, I was just leaving.”

“What?” Raven kicks at her shin under the table, and Lexa swallows the small yelp that almost makes it out of her mouth.

“Please stay,” says Clarke, hand shooting out to cover Lexa’s out of instinct. “I mean—I could use some company.”

Lexa wants to say, _You have Bellamy and Raven;_ wants to say, _You have Wells._ Instead, Lexa goes with a soft, “Okay,” and lets her hand be enveloped in Clarke’s warmth.

After all these years, it turns out Lexa still couldn’t say no.

Clarke orders salad, and it is simply _so Clarke_ and Lexa tries not to think about how odd it is, the way some memories and habits have been retained despite it all. She remembers Octavia’s _total brain wipeout_ comment, and Lexa can’t help but be sad. _A total brain wipeout that wiped out only me._

“Is everything all right?” Clarke asks, wiping at her lips.

Lexa shakes her head, smiling. “Nothing. I just remembered something.”

“From work?” asks Clarke.

Lexa looks at Raven and Bellamy, who just look at her like they’re saying _Answer her_. “From _home_ , actually,” she says. “I’m thinking about my girlfriend.”

“Is she okay?”

Lexa turns to her, confused. “Of course.”

“It just seemed like—well, you seemed sad,” says Clarke. “I hope she’s fine, though. Sorry—I’m not myself lately.”

 _I was thinking about you._ “Completely understandable,” Lexa says instead. “She’s fine though. Thank you for asking.” Clarke focuses on her salad, and Lexa takes the opportunity to cast a pleading look at Bell, who mercifully clears his throat.

“Where’s Wells?” he asks, and Lexa almost groans. _Not what I meant, but okay._

“At the hotel, getting some sleep. His dad is flying in tomorrow morning. That’s going to be a long drive.”

“Where are you staying?” asks Raven.

“At The Ark,” says Clarke. Then, off the pout on Raven’s face, “Didn’t want to impose, really.”

“What is it with the two of you?” Raven says, raising her brow at Lexa. “Anybody heard of old times’ sake?”

“Raven,” says Lexa, voice low.

“You’re at a hotel too?” asks Clarke.

“Polis, actually.”

Clarke smiles. “Just a couple of streets down,” she says. “Had I known, I would have carpooled with you earlier today.”

 _You took the train instead._ Lexa bites down on her tongue. “I do not wish to cramp your style.”

“You won’t,” says Clarke. “I mean—if I won’t cramp _yours._ I have your number no?”

Lexa scratches at her palm out of habit; the ghost of Clarke’s handwriting starts itching. “And I have yours.” And then, “I think I saw you at the train earlier.”

Clarke nods. “More convenient than driving, isn’t it?”

“Parking here can be confusing,” says Lexa. “We could take the train together tomorrow, if you wish.”

Raven coughs as she kicks at Lexa’s shin again, more forcefully this time that the table actually moves and Clarke actually notices. “Are you okay?” she asks Raven.

Nodding, Raven moves for the glass of water. “Sorry,” she says, eyeing Lexa. “I think I need something stronger to drink.”

Bellamy laughs, motioning for the waiter and the drinks list.

*

Bellamy is first to call it a night. “This body ain’t what it used to be,” he says, yawning. Raven punches him in the arm. “Your house is on the way to mine. I’ll drop you off.”

“And leave these two alone?” Raven slurs. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Thank you for not trusting me with your financial planner, Raven,” Clarke says, grinning. “I used to live here, you know.”

“Raven,” Lexa just says, looking at Bellamy. She wonders if Raven is truly drunk, and for a moment she is terrified, what she could _forget_ she could no longer say.

Bellamy takes Raven by the shoulders. Then, to Lexa: “Thank you for dinner.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” says Lexa, glancing over at Clarke. A dizzy feeling zips past her head briefly as Clarke smiles back. _Too much wine,_ Lexa just thinks.

“See? They’re doing it again, Bell,” says Raven.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lexa counters immediately, taking her wallet out. When her thumb grazes past the Lacuna card, Lexa suddenly feels all too sober. _Remember, Lexa._

“ _And_ we’re out,” says Bellamy, wrapping Raven in his arms and gently leading her to the exit. “Please call when you’ve reached your respective hotels.

“We will,” Clarke says. Lexa looks at the time – just past midnight, and already Clarke’s voice has that rasp that Lexa remembers fondly from all those all-nighters back in the day.  Lexa reaches for her glass of wine, still half-full.

“You still have your drink,” says Clarke after a while. Suddenly, the restaurant sounds so _quiet,_ and when Lexa looks around she finds the two of them alone. _In the end, you and me, huh._ “We don’t have to go yet.”

Lexa keeps her eyes pinned on Clarke’s hand on the table; on the ring around her finger. _Remember, Lexa. One of you has to, at least._ “You must be tired,” she says. “I don’t want to keep you.”

“I—I don’t feel like leaving my mother tonight,” she says. “I’d probably go back, keep vigil.” And then, “I’m sorry if this messes with your plans.”

“I have no plans to mess with, in the first place,” says Lexa, trying a small smile. “I’ll walk you back, take a cab from there.”

“Take your time.”

“More wine then?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Lexa blushes. _I’m trying so hard, Clarke. You have no idea._ “Not my intention at all,” she says. “I apologize if that’s the way it came across.”

“Not what I meant,” Clarke says, sliding her hand across the table to touch Lexa’s arm. Lexa wonders how easy this could be for Clarke; her body falling into once familiar patterns that her mind has chosen to forget. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“We’re always apologizing to each other,” says Lexa.

“I’m sorry for that, too.” Clarke takes her hand off the table, fiddling with her ring. “I can’t explain why I’m drawn to you.”

Lexa drains her wine glass. _This is a bad sign._ Lexa tries not to imagine it as stitches coming loose. _Surely it’s not that simple?_ “You could always say it’s the grief,” Lexa offers.

Clarke shakes her head. “It feels… it feels much bigger than that. I don’t know,” she grows quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Since I moved cities, things have always felt… incomplete. Somehow. I’ve been sweeping this under the rug, and it was easier then when I was just running away from all of it. And then there was Wells, and it was good, for a handful of years, and then…this.”

Lexa feels the weight of that last word settle heavily on her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“And, you know, we’ve been living apart for longer – even when I was here. We were practically outside each other’s orbit. I mean – don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate my mother, but.” Clarke breathes in, running her shaky hands into her hair. “I don’t understand why this is so _hard_.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says again, watching as Clarke lowers her face into her hands. Like this, Clarke looks so small, and all Lexa wants to do is hold her. Lexa’s chest aches as Clarke starts a slow, quiet sob. “Please, Clarke,” Lexa murmurs, rubbing at Clarke’s back tentatively. “Let’s get you home.”

*

The walk back to the funeral home is quiet. It’s almost 1 a.m. when they get out, and by this time the wind is already chilly. Lexa walks close to Clarke, both hands in her pockets, while Clarke weaves an arm into Lexa’s, her cheek occasionally brushing against Lexa’s shoulder.

It makes Lexa want to scream like she’s scalded. Instead, she tries to keep breathing; tries to keep her vision clear, despite all the wine in her head.

The room is empty, save for the young girl behind the coffee counter. She rubs the almost-sleep out of her eyes as Lexa enters the room, Clarke still wrapped under her arm. Abby’s casket lies quietly up front, flowers watching over her.

Clarke sighs, pushing herself off Lexa, gently. “Coffee?”

Lexa smiles. “Would certainly help get the alcohol out of my head.”

They drink in silence by the coffee bar, parting one of the curtains to look out the window. The city is so quiet below, and Lexa finds herself sighing at the sight. _Maybe something vast. Like outer space. Planets and constellations._ Lexa shakes her head. _All these old words._

“You’re thinking about your girlfriend again?” says Clarke softly, spoon tinkling in her cup.

“How could you tell?”

“You get that really fond look,” she says. “Like you really miss her.”

 _Oh god,_ Lexa almost says, biting down on her tongue. She gingerly lifts her cup to her lips. “I do,” she manages, after. “We’re apart far too often lately.”

“Business trips?”

“Hers and mine,” says Lexa. “You and Wells?”

Clarke manages a small smile; in her exhaustion, it doesn’t even reach her eyes. “We’re together all the time,” she says. “But here, we’re surprisingly… okay with all this space between. Am I bad for liking this? Being alone?”

 _You’re not,_ Lexa wants to point out. _You’re with me._ “I suppose it does make the heart grow fonder – whatever that means,” Lexa says. “Some friends say it’s healthy.”

“Is it, for you?”

Lexa considers the question for a moment. It has been the norm for her and Nat – even before they got together. Perhaps that accounts for most of the comfort. “It is, though I assume it’s different for everyone.”

“How do you always seem to know what to say?”

 _My mind is full of words I can’t._ “I suppose it’s still the wine talking,” Lexa just says.

Clarke finishes her coffee and slides into one of the pews, motioning for Lexa to sit beside her. In the utter quiet of the room, every sound is amplified and Lexa winces as the wood creaks under their weight.

“Keep talking,” Clarke mumbles, leaning her head against Lexa’s shoulder. “I like your voice.”

Lexa breathes in; her chest feels like it’s about to burst, and she knows it’s not just the air around them. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” says Clarke.

“Anything, really?” Lexa says. “I could read a finance brochure out loud and you won’t mind?”

Clarke laughs softly, sleep seeping around the corners of the sound. It takes all of Lexa not to lean too closely; not to turn her head and bury her face in Clarke’s hair. It had been one of her favorite things. _This is not real,_ Lexa tells herself, even as Clarke snakes a hand around her arm warmly, fingers resting on her wrist.

_This is no longer Clarke._

“I wish we’d met when we were younger,” Clarke says, and just when Lexa thinks she’s got her breath back, here comes Clarke again, rushing in like the tide, and there’s only so much Lexa can do to keep afloat. “You feel like someone—” A pause. “We would have had a grand time.”

It feels like a knife to Lexa’s gut.

*

Lexa wakes in her own hotel room, sometime close to noon. She’d left Clarke just around sunrise, after falling asleep on one of the pews with Clarke’s head on her lap.

 _Clarke’s head on my lap._ Lexa groans as she squints at the sunlight streaming in through the window, far too bright for her sleepless eyes. _Who could sleep after a night like that?_

When Lexa retrieves her phone, she has six missed calls; four of them are from Bellamy. _Shit._ She gets up, ignoring the soreness in her spine, and dials his number.

“I’m sorry I missed your call, Bellamy.”

“Good morning, Commander,” Bellamy replies. “I suppose you slept well.”

“Hardly.” And then, “Clarke needed company until sunrise.”

“She did?” There is almost no surprise in Bellamy’s voice. “How is she?”

“She couldn’t sleep,” says Lexa. “That seems to be everyone’s problem these days.”

“It’s been that sort of week,” Bellamy says. “Are you still dropping by later?”

“Yes. I promised Clarke I would.”

“ _Lexa._ ” She is familiar with the warning in Bellamy’s tone. “Are you sure you can handle this?”

“Just one more day, Bell.”

“I don’t know, Lex. When I look at her looking at you, I worry that any moment she’d remember _everything._ ”

“The Lacuna guys said the procedure is generally irreversible,” says Lexa. “I don’t think there is cause for concern.”

Bellamy sighs. “You really believe that?”

 _I can’t explain why I’m drawn to you._ Lexa swallows hard. “I do,” she says. Deep inside, she knows it’s not entirely true. _Like stitches coming apart, gently._ “Listen, I have to go.”

“I’ll be at the 6 p.m. service,” he says. “Raven says Anya’s staying for the last night.”

“Oh.”

“Raven says she was surprised to hear you’re back in town. And I quote: ‘She actually did it.’”

Lexa shakes her head. _What an Anya thing to say._ “I should probably give them a call.”

“You should. I think she and Raven are going to lunch in the area.”

“Thanks, Bell.”

Lexa tosses her phone back into bed before heading into the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself on the mirror. _A proper mess,_ she thinks, touching the space under her eyes gingerly. She feels like she hasn’t slept for _weeks._

She calls Raven a couple of hours later, just as she’s buttoning her shirt. “About damn time,” is how Raven answers her phone. “Listen. Someone wants to say hi.”

Lexa hasn’t even said anything yet in response when another voice chimes in. “Well, look at what the cat dragged in.”

 _Anya._ Lexa smiles, clearing her throat. “Hello, Anya,” she says. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“You sound like you could use a couple of hours more rest,” says Anya, though not unkindly. “How are you?”

Lexa sighs. After all these years, Anya still sees right through her – even if she’s just listening to her talk on the phone. “I’ve had better days,” says Lexa. “You know how it is.”

“You could tell me about it in person,” says Anya, and Lexa can hear Raven hooting in the background. “Come on. Your ice cream is on me.”

Lexa laughs. “Do you actually think I’m twelve?”

“Eleven, actually,” Anya replies without skipping a beat. “Drag your ass down here.”

*

_They decide to tell Raven and Anya at the same time – they’ll exchange notes immediately anyway, and neither Lexa nor Clarke would hear the end of it, if one happened to know ahead of the other. They sit together one afternoon for ice cream, and wait until they’re finished with their cones before they actually say it._

_“Are you even real?” is how Raven reacts first thing, her eyes wide. She nudges Clarke’s arm and swats Lexa’s._

_Anya just rolls her eyes, laughing a little as she turns to Raven. “How did you not see this coming?” Lexa buries her face in her hands with a soft,_ oh my god _as Clarke keeps giggling in the background. “Seriously, Raven. You were there when they first met.”_

 _“Clarke’s not exactly a_ clear read – _unlike_ your _roommate.”_

_“That is probably true,” says Anya. It prompts Lexa to nudge her in return. “What?” Anya asks, still laughing. “You’re unbearable to be around when smitten.”_

_“Guys, I’m sitting right here,” Clarke says. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”_

_“Sorry, Princess,” says Raven, sticking her tongue out, and Clarke tosses a handful of peanuts at her in retaliation._

_“Princess?” Lexa grins at Clarke, pulling her closer. “Are you secretly royalty?”_

_Clarke inches closer, looking Lexa in the eye. “Just an old nickname,” she says, voice dropping a notch softer. “Feel free to replace it.”_

_“I think it’s a keeper.”_

_Anya clears her throat. “Jesus, here we go.”_

_“So Anya. When it comes down to it then, whose fault is this – yours or mine?” Raven asks._

_“Mine, probably. I left them to their own devices,” Anya says._

_“I plead guilty to the crime of being an accessory to said bigger crime,” Raven says._

_Lexa just laughs, soaking in Clarke’s open gaze, her eyes wide._

*

For someone who wants to ‘hear all about it in person’, Anya doesn’t actually ask too many prying questions. Lexa arrives an hour after their phone call, and the first thing Anya tells her is, “Get some ice cream.”

So Lexa does. Raven goes for another round herself. “Her third,” Anya says, as Raven returns to her seat. Raven sticks her tongue out at her, the tip hilariously blue. Lexa finds herself laughing; like this, she _does_ feel like she’s eleven years old.

“Still pistachio after all this time?” Anya notes, looking down at Lexa’s bowl.

“You know me,” Lexa just says, shrugging.

Raven talks about her music, while Anya talks about her company’s latest pitch to build a 40-story building in the next town over the next three to four years.

“Wow,” says Lexa. “What would you even put in that building?”

“Homes, I suppose,” Anya says. And then, “You should consider moving back here.”

Even Raven is stunned silent at the offer; Lexa hadn’t seen that coming. “I don’t belong here anymore, Anya,” she says. It comes off more exhausted than intended. “More so after this.”

Anya sighs. “I haven’t even been to Abby’s yet,” she says. “How’s everyone?”

“By everyone, you mean Clarke,” says Lexa. “Clarke is… well. For starters, she doesn’t remember me.” Raven’s hand shoots out instinctively at that, wrapping warmly around Lexa’s arm. “Which is a good thing, actually. The last thing she needs is for something _else_ to go wrong.”

“I can’t believe it’s been so long since Clarke’s operation,” says Anya. “I still have that card.”

“I carry it with me all the time,” Lexa says. She takes out her wallet and slips it out as proof. _Please do not mention this relationship to her again._ “Some days I think about giving Mierzwiak a call.”

“ _Lexa._ ” Anya’s tone is firm. Forceful. “Promise me you will _never_.”

Lexa lets out a long breath. “I _know_ , okay?” she says, looking out the window. It’s a beautiful day outside; the kind she used to spend sitting out on benches with Clarke, watching her draw.

_You think I wouldn’t have done it if I really could?_

“Someone has to remember,” Lexa tells Anya. “Some of it’s too beautiful to forget.”

*

By the time they make it to the funeral home, the service has already started. Lexa catches Clarke’s eye as they come in, and Clarke gives her a small smile, her hand in Wells’.

Lexa tries not to ache.

“Wells’ dad is here,” says Raven under her breath, noting the man who’s standing beside him up front. _Clarke’s father-in-law,_ Lexa thinks, trying to ignore the pit that’s growing steadily in her gut. _A family affair._

_This is Clarke’s family now._

Lexa closes her eyes, trying to focus the service. A colleague is speaking about Abby fondly – about her steady hands and steady heart. It’s a moving message, and slowly, the room fills with quiet sobs. Even Raven starts sniffing.

Bellamy approaches them after the service – he was seated up front, right behind the family. He greets Anya with a handshake and gives Raven a hug. “Have you approached the family?” he asks Anya.

“Just about to,” says Anya. And then, turning to Lexa: “Join me?”

Lexa opens her mouth to refuse, but before she could make a sound, Anya’s already nudging her along, hand around her arm.

“Anya!” Clarke calls out to her, and Anya gives her a lengthy hug. “Thank you for coming to see her.” And then, turning to Lexa: “Hey.” And then: “You seem to know all my favorite people.”

“Hey,” Lexa just says. “Small world, isn’t it.”

“The wonders of networking,” says Anya, before turning to Wells. “I believe we haven’t met. My name is Anya. You must be Clarke’s husband.”

“Wells,” he says, shaking Anya’s hand. “I’m sorry we aren’t meeting at a happier time.” He turns in kind to the man behind him and introduces him. “This is my father.”

“Thelonious,” he says, shaking Anya’s hand first before Lexa’s. “We are grateful for the time you have shared with Clarke and our family.”

 _Our family._ Lexa tries not to visibly reel from the words. “Abby was, in many ways, also our mother,” says Anya. Clarke bites down on her lip at that; she looks like she’s about to cry.

Clarke sits with Anya and Lexa as Wells and his dad go around the room to thank visitors. “I’m just so exhausted,” she tells Anya. “But to be honest, I don’t know what I’d be doing after tomorrow.”

Lexa looks over Clarke’s shoulder and catches Bellamy’s eye. He’s standing with Raven near the door and she signals for them to come closer.

“One day at a time,” Anya says. “You’ll get through tonight. Then you’ll wake up tomorrow. Then we’ll pick it up from there.”

“That’s oddly comforting,” Clarke says, looking up as Bellamy puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” she says, smiling wanly. “I’m glad to see you guys again.”

“Nowhere else we’d rather be,” says Raven, sitting beside Anya. “That’s Wells’ dad, right?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. “I’m glad they’re here to _tend_ to the guests. I’m exhausted.”

“Does this—do we exhaust you?” Lexa asks carefully.

“No!” Clarke’s response is immediate, indignant. Raven holds her hand, brushing her thumb across the skin, like she’s saying, _We understand._ “I mean – no, of course not. You are my strength.”

They _are your strength,_ Lexa thinks, looking away from Clarke’s intense gaze. _You just met me. Remember?_

_No, of course you don’t._

Bellamy clears his throat – timely as always. “Anybody want a cup of coffee?”

*

It’s easier with Anya around; it’s like there’s a neutral point they could all orbit, and Anya takes them all in and then keeps them all at arm’s length. _The center that holds,_ Lexa thinks, listening in as Anya talks about everything – from the politics of this city, to professional sporting events, and, of course, to business. She never lets the ball drop on any school-related thing – it’s _technically_ impolite to ‘alienate’ the financial planner in their group whom they all had _miraculously_ met on an out-of-town seminar.

“No, but seriously,” says Bellamy, impassioned in a way that Lexa hasn’t really seen before. “Did you actually _watch_ the match? He was obviously robbed.”

“By a guy who obviously knows how to choose his battles,” Anya replies coolly. “Say what you want, but as far as efficiency is concerned—”

“It’s hardly about efficiency, Anya. Boxing is about _hitting people—”_

Raven yawns. “Who else is bored with this topic?”

“I don’t even know how we got here,” says Clarke. She’s leaning against Lexa, brushing against her arm casually as she reaches over to swat Bellamy’s shoulder. “Stop arguing.”

“We’re having a _spirited conversation_ ,” says Bellamy. “I didn’t complain when you started talking about museums earlier.”

“You’re a _brute,_ ” Clarke says, laughing lightly and making a face. Lexa’s heart drops just a little at the sight. _All my kingdoms for one more day with this Clarke – laughing without a care in the world._  

*

Thelonious and Wells leave for their hotel around midnight, and Lexa looks away as Clarke kisses him good night.

*

Raven leaves with Bellamy, around half-past one. “Noon tomorrow, right?”

“Yes,” says Clarke, standing in kind, wiping her palms against her slacks. Lexa recognizes this nervous habit; wishes she didn’t remember all the exams and presentations and oral defenses that came along with it. _Oh, your small, nervous hands._ “You will be there, right?”

Raven approaches one last time to hug Clarke. “We will, okay? Which is why we have to get some sleep tonight. You too, hm?”

Clarke nods. “Yeah. Sure. Go,” she tells them, smiling. “The two of you, too.”

“Of course,” says Anya, pulling her keys out of her pocket. “Lex?”

Lexa looks at Clarke, like she’s asking for permission to go home. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Thanks for staying last night,” says Clarke.

Anya leans in closer to Lexa and tells her to take her time. “I’ll go ahead and get the car,” she tells Clarke before heading for the door with Raven and Bellamy.

Just like that, they’re alone again – it feels like the most natural thing.

“I can stay,” Lexa offers, after a while. “If you want.” _Because tonight’s going to be the last._ She thinks about Natasha, and how her phone’s probably filled with her unanswered text messages; how a handful of those would probably be about the flight she’s taking tomorrow.

Clarke steps closer, breathing in. “I want,” she says, putting a hand on Lexa’s chest. _What are you doing, Clarke?_ This close, Lexa can feel her shaking. “What is it about _you_?” she whispers, fiddling with Lexa’s collar.

_The things I wish to tell you. All these words I cannot say._

When Lexa looks into Clarke’s eyes, all she sees is the _sun,_ and against all good advice, Lexa goes ahead and kisses her. _Something vast. Planets and constellations._ In her mind, they’re back in her empty room again with their backs against the wall, looking up at Clarke’s mural: A forest filled with stars. _It brings out the color of your eyes._

_I’m going to fucking marry you, someday._

_I hope that’s okay._

“ _Clarke_.” Lexa opens her eyes just as Clarke does, slowly, her eyelids fluttering. Right there, Clarke looks at her like she’s eighteen again and kissing a girl for the first time – like she’s hopeful and afraid and uncertain of her heart.

The room is quiet save for the wild beating in both their chests.

*

Lexa leaves the old town behind the same way she’s always known how – at the airport. She lets Raven drive, with Bellamy and Anya in the back seat, still in the clothes they wore to Abby’s funeral.

It was a three-hour funeral, throughout which Clarke was a right mess – Lexa couldn’t even bring herself to look. Clarke didn’t even speak to her at all; it was Wells who thanked her for staying.

“You seem to know her well,” he said, his voice still so kind, and Lexa wiped at her eyes for reasons that were not solely Abby’s fault.

“I know loss,” was how Lexa replied.

*

Weeks go by.

Lexa tries to bury the memory of those three odd days she spent in her old hometown, trying to say goodbye and tie up loose ends. Instead she focuses on work and Natasha, who welcomed her home that night with warm arms and a hot bath.

 _This is your life,_ Lexa reminds herself, as she wakes ahead of Natasha every morning, staring at the skin of her shoulder. _Look at how beautiful this is._

On most days that is enough.

*

Lexa is finishing a month-end report when Natasha pops her head in her study. “Lexa, honey,” says Natasha. “Your secretary called to say Clarke Griffin left a message for you. She’s asking for a return call.”

Lexa feels the blood freeze in her veins. “Did she say _Clarke Griffin_?” she asks without looking up from her papers, trying to seem casual.

“Mhmm,” says Natasha, similarly distracted. “Wasn’t she your friend whose mother died a couple of months ago?”

“Yeah,” Lexa says. “Did she—did she say why?”

“To quote Maggie: ‘Message was short. Sounded very distressed. Call back ASAP.’” Natasha looks up from her phone, a worried look on her face. “Something must be wrong.”

Lexa lowers her pen, patting around her papers for her phone. “Did Maggie leave a number?”

“She said she forwarded it to your cell.”

“All right,” says Lexa. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“ _Call_ her, okay?” Natasha says, hand on the door. “It sounds important.”

Lexa just nods, waiting for her to close the door before browsing through her phone for Maggie’s message. _Hang on, Clarke._

“Hello?” A pause. “Clarke? It’s me.”

Clarke takes a moment on the other end of the line before breathing out. “ _Lexa?_ ” The way she says her name – it puts a shudder through Lexa. _She sounds familiar and terrified and._

“I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to call, I know—”

“Slow down, Clarke. What’s wrong?”

“I was going through my mom’s stuff, and I—I—”

 _Where is she?_ “You’re in your mother’s house?”

“Packing her stuff in boxes,” says Clarke, breathing heavily. “I—there was a tape. It had my name.”

 _Something doesn’t feel right._ “What are you talking about?” Lexa listens in as Clarke shuffles on the other end, like she’s struggling to get the tape to a player. _Why is Abby keeping recordings with Clarke’s name?_

“Clarke? Are you okay?”

There’s a click then static – Clarke must have found a tape player, and is perhaps sitting next to it. The recording starts with a middle-aged man telling someone to speak for the record. _What is going on here?_ Something does not sit well in Lexa’s stomach.

When a woman’s voice starts airing, that’s when Lexa’s heart gets lodged in her throat. “ _My name is Clarke Griffin,_ ” the woman’s saying. _“And I’m here to erase my girlfriend of five years._ ” The pause is long and unbearable and Lexa doesn’t know what to do with the rest of it. _“Her name is Lexa.”_

Lexa closes her eyes. She doesn’t know who the _fuck_ is playing games, but right now all she can think about is how Clarke _knows._ “What does it all mean?” Clarke asks, turning off the recording with another click.

“Clarke, please—”

“Did you _know_ about this? Is this how you know all of my friends?”

“Clarke. Listen to me--”

“I found this tape in my mother’s things. Its postmark says it arrived _three_ months ago.”

 _Around the time Abby died. But what does that mean? Or does it even matter?_ “Have you listened to all of it?”

Clarke pauses for a long while, and Lexa wonders what she could have told the man who was about to tamper with her memories. What were her instructions? What exactly did she want to forget?

Why was she there in the first place?

 _Not your place anymore to ask, is it?_ Lexa blinks and clears her throat. “Clarke?”

“Yes,” says Clarke, softly. “The tape ran for five hours.” And then: “I’ve listened to it twice.”

“Oh, Clarke,” Lexa says. _What else is there left?_ “What have you done?”

There’s a soft whimper on the other end of the line; Clarke is crying again. “I don’t know,” she just says. “I don’t know and I don’t _remember_.”

 Lexa sighs. “And I can’t help you,” she says. “Not anymore.”

“I know.”

“What else can I do for you?”

Clarke pauses, sniffing. “Can we stay on the line, please?” she says. Her voice is small. “I need only a minute.”

“Okay,” Lexa says. She stays the way she’s wanted to all these years; the way she just couldn’t, not with Clarke.

*

When the line goes dead and Clarke hangs up, Lexa turns her head to look out her window. From where she’s seated she can see Natasha watering the flowers in their backyard garden. Outside, the sun is out and the sky is clear; all of it reminds Lexa of what it means to be _here._

 


End file.
